


Your Healing Touches

by shittybundaskenyer



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avenia is a healer and her brother is the Inquisitor, Canon-Typical Violence, Cullen is an ass too, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Healing Touches AU, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, kind of an AU, the Trevelyans are a bunch of arses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittybundaskenyer/pseuds/shittybundaskenyer
Summary: Traveling with a bloody Templar is all a rebel mage could ask for.





	Your Healing Touches

**Author's Note:**

> About this AU:  
> Avenia is a mage Trevelyan who escaped the Ostwick Circle after it's fall. She traveled to Ferelden with a group of other rebel mages and she started working as a healer as they journeyed from town to town. One night their camp got ambushed and the bandits killed everyone except her. She got rescued by a group of Inquisition soldiers and they took her in to help them heal the wounded.  
> Cullen is still the Commander of the Inquisition's forces, but he goes on important missions with his soldiers. Now they're sent to Ferelden because the Inquisitor wants to find his lost sister. 
> 
> Sooo this story will explore how Cullen grows to like his mage companion after all that shit happened to him in Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall.

_14th of Wintermarch, 9:42 Dragon_

 

She grabs the hilt of the dagger, and then, without a warning, she pulls it out swiftly, the man with curly, dark hair lying in front of her crying out in surprise rather than pain. She quickly presses her hand to the wound and closes her eyes, the strange pull of her magic already buzzing in the air and sparkling in her fingertips. She channels her healing magic into the man’s thigh, slowly stopping the bleeding and patching up the wound. The dagger not went too deep, so it was not a difficult task for her.

After agonizingly slow minutes, only a small, faint scar is left at the previous place where the blade sank into his flesh.

She lets out a soft sigh, already feeling exhausted and empty. Using her healing magic so many times in the previous hours drained her mana completely and the lack of sleep in the last two days doesn’t help either. She grips the edge of the makeshift bed and sits down on the cold ground next to it, her legs aren't able to hold her weight any longer.

“Thank you, lass” the man smiles down at her, then leans forward and touches the fresh, pink tissue on his left thigh through the huge hole on his torn and blood-soaked trousers. “You’re really good at this.”

“No problem” she breathes, then pulls up her legs and hugs them, resting her chin on the top of her knees, trying to slow her breathing.

“Are you all right?” the man seems concerned for a second, his pale blue eyes examining her face and trembling lips.

“I’m just tired, that’s a…” her response is interrupted by a loud thud as a man lifts the flap of the tent and steps inside in full armor, still covered with small blood-stains and dirt from their previous battle. He rests one of his hands on the pommel of his sword, and when his gaze falls upon her, his grip tightens on it immediately. She knows this man too well. _The bloody Templar, all in his glory._

“What in the Maker’s name do you think you are doing?” he frowns at them, his eyebrows knitted together, almost trapping the curly strand of golden hair falling into his forehead between them.

“Using forbidden magic? Luring your men into my bed to use them for blood sacrifices?” She shakes her head slowly, already too tired to properly argue with him. “Saving lives, maybe?” She mutters finally.

“I told you we’ll survive without your help, Avenia.”

“You’re too hard on her, Commander” the dark haired man interrupts him. “You didn’t see the blasted thing in my leg, half an hour earlier!” He turns towards the woman first, then glances up at the Commander again, lips pulling into a mischievous smirk. “Do you want one in yours, too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rylen.” he huffs, not amused of the situation. There are three people in the tent, but only two of them is having fun in playing with his nerves. “You are my second in command, but I can still send you somewhere to dig latrines with the other soldiers.”

Rylen gets up from the small cot and reaches for Avenia’s hand to help her stand up. She is still tired, but the day is not over yet. The dark haired man lifts her hand to his lips and presses a light kiss to the back of her palm.

“Thank you, Healer” he releases her hand, and then turns to the Commander. “And you should respect her, Cullen. You owe her your life, too.”

Rylen walks out of the tent, leaving the healer and Cullen in complete silence, Avenia grinning into her palm like an idiot and the Commander frowning. The woman coughs, trying to hide her amusement and looks up at the man, eyes still sparkling. _Oh,_ she loves making him angry.

Cullen’s eyebrows now touch, drawing a deep valley into his forehead with smaller wrinkles. _Maker_ , he is furious now, and Avenia wants to laugh into this face.

What Rylen said was true: she saved his life once, even if he was unconscious and she didn’t want to. The battle with a bunch of renegade Templars was though that day. Those men were stronger and quicker than any of the Commander’s troops or Cullen himself and he got beaten up very badly. That night she patched a huge wound on his side, stopped the inner bleeding and tried to fix his ripped upper lip, too. (But she messed up that part, and it left a sexy scar and she hated herself for it.)

The man still doesn't say anything so Avenia busies herself with organizing the parchments and small flasks of potions and salves on her makeshift-desk. The clinking of plate armor stirs the silence as Cullen walks closer, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it out at any moment. The Healer only glances at him from the corner of her eyes and then continues her task. He does this every time they are in the same room and Avenia always reads his body-language like an open book. Maybe he is afraid of her power, or waits when will she turn into an Abomination, or a Blood Mage or Maker knows what kind of terrible thing.

“We discussed it a thousand times but I’ll say it again,” Avenia sighs and shoves the parchments into her backpack “I won’t kill you so you can release that sword.”

Cullen ignores her words and steps closer until he is in front of her. “Skyhold needs healers.”

“So you want to send me away,” she sighs. “ _Again_.”

“Not specifically me, but yes, you need to go. We’ll manage on our own.”

Cullen turns on his heel and he is ready to go but Avenia’s cough stops him in his movements. He looks back at her with an arched eyebrow, amber eyes still filled with anger, but now a bit _softer_.

“What’s the problem in Skyhold?” She tucks a handful of potions into the pockets on her belt. “Why they need _me_ , suddenly?”

“They not need _you_ , they need a healer. Nobody cares about who you are until you touch them with your glowing hands.” Cullen is still pissed and it shows on his face and in his words. His hatred towards mages is an open secret and he is very bad in keeping it hidden. “We will depart in the morning. Pack all the things you need.”

Avenia almost snaps at him to go and stab himself in the chest but her mouth hangs open and nothing escapes her throat when he ends his last sentence.

“What do you mean by _‘we’_ ?” She blurts out, worry rising in her chest, her pulse quickening. _Oh no, no, no._

“I mean I have to check my men there too, and I will escort you back to Skyhold. I hope you’re happy about it,” he flashes a cold smile towards her direction, the scar in the corner of his mouth smugly curling upwards. Avenia wants to scream in that moment, but the man is already leaving, the clinking of his armor still audible through the fabric of the tent after he left.

“ _Oh, Adraste’s tits!_ ” She hisses and sinks down onto the cot, dropping her backpack next to the makeshift-table.

Traveling through Ferelden as an apostate is one thing, but traveling with the Commander of the Inquisition is a whole new level of aggravation. Avenia hates this man, his cold smiles, his hatred towards mages, his amber eyes, his _bloody_ lip-scar, she hates every piece of him that sings the blasted song of the lyrium in his veins.

And she is afraid, too. In the Circle she always watched the Templars closely, tried to learn their way of thinking, their small movements, their tactics, but she hasn’t prepared for a trip like this.

 


End file.
